Bar Girl (21 page)

‘You could pass for eighteen now,’ The old woman answered, knowingly. ‘There is a man I know who may be able to help you. It’ll cost you, though.’

‘I have some money,’ Siswan said.

‘It may be expensive. He does a very good job.’

On her next free day Siswan walked down the small street that led to the place Karn’s friend worked. It was a copy shop. A place people could go to get photocopies made of their passport, drivers licence or identity card. That wasn’t the real purpose of the shop though. The real purpose lay in the small room that the old man showed her after she told him that Karn had sent her.

He had closed the front door of the shop, hung a sign that told customers he would be back later, and led Siswan through a rear corridor to a locked door. Taking a large key from his pocket he opened the door and ushered her through.

She was a little disappointed to find a badly lit stock room full of different kinds of paper and card. A dusty laminating machine stood in a corner next to a small table.

The old man shuffled across the room and turned on a bright work light positioned over the table.

‘How old do you want to be?’ he asked Siswan.

‘Eighteen,’ she told him.

‘How old are you now?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Four years. Yes. I can do four years,’ he said, almost to himself.

‘How much will it cost?’ she asked him.

‘Two thousand,’ he answered, without a moments hesitation.

‘Alright,’ Siswan agreed.

The old man told her to write her name and address down on a piece of card. She had to sign her name inside a rectangular box near the bottom of the card. He handed her what had once been a white blouse.

‘What’s this for?’ she asked.

‘You want to be eighteen in an old yellow tee shirt? Put it on.’

Siswan looked for somewhere to change. There didn’t seem to be anywhere. She had to agree that her tee shirt didn’t do much to make her look any older but she wasn’t about to strip off in front of the old man. She knew that her small bra didn’t do enough to hide her breasts any more.

‘Don’t be shy, girl. I won’t look and, even if I did, there’s not a lot I can do at my age,’ he told her.

In the end, she turned away from him and slipped out of her shirt. She put on the blouse. It smelled musty and stale. The collar was grey with greasy dirt.

‘Don’t worry. In the light of the flash it looks white enough,’ he told her.

‘Now, here’s some makeup. Don’t use too much or else it looks false.’

She took the small plastic box he offered, opened it and examined the various pads, brushes, pencils and powders inside. She didn’t have a clue what was what.

‘Not worn makeup before?’ he asked her.

Without waiting for an answer he took the box and gestured for her to sit on the stool by the table.

Licking the end of a short black pencil he applied a small amount of eyeliner to her eyes. A touch of powder to her cheeks and forehead. Just enough to lessen the shine of her youth.

‘You have good skin, girl,’ he told her, as he used a small brush to emphasise her mouth a little more.

She could smell his bad breath and stale body odour as he leant over her. She found it difficult to breath and didn’t answer.

‘The thing with makeup is to apply it so that it doesn’t look as though you’ve got any on. That’s the secret. Too many girls just plaster it on without any idea,’ he told her, as he worked.

Finally, after a long and lingering examination of her face, he stepped back. Siswan allowed herself a deep breath. He passed her a small mirror.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

When Siswan looked in the mirror she was startled by the face that looked back at her. She looked older. A lot older. Her eyes looked larger, the whites brighter. Her mouth looked fuller, less like a girl, more like a woman.

She was shocked at the transformation the old man had made to her face with a few brushes and pencils. And he was right; it didn’t look as though she wore makeup. She took another glance in the mirror before handing it back. The woman who glanced back was undoubtedly beautiful.

The old man took a camera from a drawer. It was old and, like everything else, covered in dust and grime.

‘Now, hold still. Don’t smile. Just look at the camera,’ he said.

After taking three photographs, the old man told her to wash her face, change back into her shirt and meet him back in the main shop. He showed her to a small hand basin further down the corridor.

‘When will it be ready?’ she asked, as she entered the shop.

‘Come back in three days,’ he told her. ‘And bring the money.’

Three days later, Siswan returned to the shop and handed over the money. The old man held out a small plastic card.

‘There you go, girl. Four years older.’

Siswan looked at the identity card. It looked a little old, a little grubby. Absolutely perfect in every way. She had seen a few identity cards in her time. Real ones. This one looked no different. No different at all.

‘There’s something else I’d like you to do for me,’ she said.

‘What’s that? Driver’s licence? Marriage certificate? No problem. Price is the same,’ he told her.

‘No. I don’t need anything like that.’ She smiled. ‘What I want is for you to teach me how to wear makeup.’

The old man laughed. A harsh cackle of a laugh that finished with a coughing fit. Siswan hoped he wasn’t going to die on her. Finally, after wiping his mouth with a yellow stained handkerchief, he turned to look at her properly.

‘You want an old man to teach you, a lovely young girl, how to wear makeup?’ He laughed again, but managed to stop before it turned into a coughing fit.

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Why not?’

‘Oh, no reason as to why not, girl. No reason at all.’

Siswan watched as he calculated time and expense in his head. Eventually he came up with a figure.

‘A thousand,’ he told her.

‘Five hundred,’ she answered, quickly.

‘Seven fifty, and I’ll let you have the makeup box.’

‘Okay, it’s a deal.’ She smiled.

Over the next week, spending an hour each day, the old man showed her all the tricks about using makeup. She learned how to make her face look narrower, fatter, older and younger. He taught her about eye shadow, lipsticks, powders. What type of brush to use, what type of pencil. How to highlight, darken, emphasise her natural beauty. He showed her how makeup could be used without it being obvious. He taught her the difference between too much and too little.

At the end of the week, Siswan felt confident in her ability to wear a face in public. She tried it out on the last evening. Instead of washing her face clean, as normal, she wandered out wearing the makeup she had applied herself.

Clutching the small box the old man had given her, she walked along the street to the main road. She felt a little conspicuous at first. Her old shorts and faded tee shirt didn’t match the radiant beauty her face portrayed.

The looks she received from both locals and farangs were a little intimidating to begin with. Even a few women cast her a second glance.

It was when she overheard a young local man pass a comment to his friend that she became less troubled by her appearance.

‘Wow!’ Was all he had said but it was enough for Siswan. She smiled and walked on with her head held just a little higher.

That evening she told Karn she was ready. She had enough money left to rent a small room, buy some new cheap clothes in the market and look for a job in one of the bars.

The old woman had studied Siswan’s new identity card for a long time. Finally, as though she were satisfied with what she saw, she handed it back.

‘Look for a quiet bar,’ Karn told her. ‘The customers will want to talk more.’

Siswan told her she was going to leave the workhouse in the morning. There was an apartment block, not too far away from the bar district, that was advertising rooms to let.

‘You will have to be careful, Siswan,’ Karn told her. ‘Watch out for the other girls as well as the men.’

‘I will. I’ll come back to see you as soon as I get some free time,’ Siswan promised.

The two of them sat and watched the sun sink into the sea once more. Siswan felt as though she was watching it for the last time. The last time as a child. She had seen so much and learned so much but, deep down, she was still a child. Armed with her new identity card, that was all about to change. The bars beckoned. That was where she could escape the poverty of her life. That was where she could start to make her dream a reality. The bars with their loud music, bright lights and farang customers. Farangs who had money to spend. She looked forward to meeting them with some trepidation. A little fear, perhaps. Even so, the excitement she felt inside wouldn’t go away.

‘I’m going to buy a new outfit tomorrow, as well,’ she said to Karn. The old woman looked at her and smiled.

‘Something in black, no doubt,’ she said.

After a moments hesitation, during which she wondered how the old woman had managed to read her mind, Siswan answered.

‘No,’ she said, slowly. ‘I was thinking of something in white, maybe a dress, or a skirt and blouse.’

‘A virgin to the slaughter!’ Karn laughed, not unkindly.

‘Yes, maybe something in black would be better.’ Siswan laughed with her.

‘Look, girl,’ Karn said, seriously. ‘The other girls will cause problems for you. You’re young, very beautiful and you have a figure men are going to want.’

‘How’s that going to cause problems with the girls?’

‘They are going to be jealous. You’ll get all the attention,’ Karn told her.

‘But I’m not going to go with the farangs,’ Siswan said.

‘That won’t matter. They’ll still see you as a threat. You’re going to have to learn quickly, and be on your guard.’

Siswan looked at the old woman. A sudden realisation came to her mind.

‘You worked the bars before, didn’t you,’ she said, quietly.

‘A long time ago, yes,’ Karn told her.

‘What was it like?’

‘It was different before. The girls all worked together, as a team. The men were different too. Better manners. Now it’s harder. Too many girls, not enough customers. It’s all about money now,’ Karn told her.

‘Surely it’s always been about the money?’ Siswan asked.

‘Yes. That’s true. But before it was money to buy food. To stay alive. To keep the family in food and clothes,’ Karn answered. ‘Now it’s about cars, motorbikes, the latest telephone, kids education, even houses. Too much for a bar girl to earn.’

Siswan looked out to sea. The waves were still rolling in. As the sun sank behind them, they seemed larger. More powerful.

‘Why do people always want more?’ Siswan asked, half to herself.

‘Because they’re told their lives will be better. The latest makeup, the best television, the biggest car. People today rush around trying to get all the things they’re told they need and then, once they have it all, they wonder what happened to their lives. Suddenly, after years of earning, they have nothing. Just a pile of junk they didn’t know they wanted. Too late then.’

Siswan leant back against the pile of sun beds. The feel of the sand under her legs, the cool breeze coming off the sea. A good friend to talk with. What more could she possibly want? As though in answer to her own question she turned to the old woman.

‘I don’t want all that stuff,’ she said. ‘I have another reason for wanting to earn.’

Siswan told Karn of her plans. She told her all about the promise she had made to the memory of her dead friend. She told her why she had left her own village, why she had left the countryside. She told her all about the old man in the park. She told her friend everything.

When Siswan finished talking, Karn said nothing for a while. Just took another swallow of beer and continued looking out to sea. Finally, she spoke.

‘If we look hard enough,’ she said. ‘Open our minds enough. Look real close. Sometimes, just sometimes, we can see ourselves in the faces of others.’

The two of them sat on the beach for another twenty minutes or so. Neither of them spoke. They finished their drinks and sat in silence. Siswan felt an affinity for the old woman who had become her friend. She understood now what Karn had said. She had seen herself in the old woman’s face many times.